


Baby Birds

by BarbarianBeauty



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Loves his Houseplants (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, M/M, Post-Canon, Rather domestic, baby birds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarbarianBeauty/pseuds/BarbarianBeauty
Summary: A domestic life beginning, and new changes appearing. Some things don't exactly change, of course, such as Crowley and his plants...but perhaps they can be adapted, to fit with the new order of things.





	Baby Birds

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, Taking a leap here, and trying out writing for this show. I loved it! I'm in the process of reading the book now, so apologies if something doesn't quite fit. But I like this! And yes, this is partially based off of a real life event, all of the best ones are. Thank you!

The day after the end of the world was...surprisingly quiet. Especially after sorting through the mess with the angels, and the demons; with Heaven, and Hell... Now, there was radio static, where once there was chatter. But together, they had turned off the radio entirely, unplugged it, and thrown it in a back room to be forgotten about, perhaps forever. Admittedly, the first few days were...tense. There were unspoken questions of 'Well, what happens now?' and 'Can we really keep this up?' But no answers to be had, of course. 

So, in the midst of mass uncertainty, the Angel Aziraphale, and the demon Crowley...begin living together, in what one could only describe as "domestic bliss." Or perhaps as close as they could get to it. They lived...rather parallel to humans. Keeping similar schedules, eating, sleeping, the works. Aziraphale always woke with the dawn, puttering around the apartment before heading to the bookshop. He said good morning to the plants, gently misted them, and left a note for Crowley, when he finally pried himself from the bed in a couple of hours. He was just about done, there was only one more, when he spotted something...a little distressing. You see, they had an Azalea hanging plant on the balcony. Pink flowers, with purple buds, and small, thin yellow stems. At one time, there could be dozens of blooms, as it spilled from it's pot, and over the sides in long, hanging tresses. Lovely, right? They'd gotten it together as their first... 'project' as a couple, so to say. Caring for the plant together. Crowley not yelling at it, Aziraphale not picking something like Petunias or Daffodils. Compromise. Ah, but what was so distressing about that?

It was wilting.

Their poor little plant was WILTING in it's pot!!

"Oh, good heavens-!" Aziraphale dropped everything else, grabbed the spray bottle, and ran to it's side on the balcony, slamming the door behind him in his haste. He began examining, trying to find where the problem could be coming from, why, who would poison their wonderful-! "Oh." He stopped his theatrics...as he really took a good long look. Truly, he was dumbfounded, but before he could do too much more, he heard the balcony door open again, and a very grouchy, tired, and annoyed Crowley appeared on the step. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, a few choice words floating from lips until he finally saw the plant.

"What. Happened." His tone had gone straight past mad, and into some sort of...low whisper, as though warning his eyes that if they were playing tricks on him, they'd regret it. But this was no trick. The plant was a MESS. Wilting, withering, bits of leaves, and straw, and all types of other things scattered into it, and SPOTS! SPOTS on the LEAVES! Just at the point that he might have an aneurysm from the sight of it, Aziraphale spoke in a soft tone, keeping his voice deliberately low.

"Crowley, look...!!" He pointed to where his own eye sight was, as Crowley threw up his hands in a huff, stomping to take a closer look.

"Oh, I'm looking alright! And I'm seeing a disaster of a plant! I swear, this thing is-" ...he fell silent.

There, in the middle of the plant, protected by the hanging vines, was a nest burrowed into the plant. It couldn't have been more than a few inches in circumference...but it was certainly there. And just beyond that lip, there were little speckled eggs, four of them, bundled together for warmth and protection. Crowley's scowl fell into a look of disbelief. This...hadn't happened to his plants before...what did they do now? Sacrifice the plant? Try to move the nest? Where was the mother anyway? Certainly not here, the deadbeat. But a look to his partner told him...this wasn't going to be a problem. Aziraphale had the sweetest smile on his lips, like one would have looking at their grandchild for the first time. There was absolute joy in his eyes, and he very lightly clapped the tips of his fingers together.

"Ohh, how wonderful...! Getting to see them hatch and fly, right from our balcony...!" Crowley...pouted a bit. At the expense of his-...their plant! But...fine. Dammit all, fine! If it made Azzie so happy, then...he could look the other way from this...disgrace of a potting. "Ahhh...but I don't see the mother...you know, I've heard that touching them isn't very good, seeing how they have...a certain scent to them! And the mother, when she doesn't recognize the scent, will just...pop them from the nest...ah! Dear, look at the time, I'd better be off! I've got an appointment with a young American man looking to get some documents transcribed, and I can't risk being late-!" Crowley listened to his partner...chitter on, as though the world had not...nearly ended in the days previous. It was...a comfort, really. A sense of...new normalcy. Those baby bird would hatch, spread their little wings, sing in the mornings, and then take to the skies...and the nest would be left empty...and the mother would move on.

He watched Aziraphale rush in, slip on his coat, grab his satchel, and hurry to the door, pausing to give a small wave, before the door shut, and Crowley was left alone for the morning. He glanced to the nest again, stuck his head out to see if he could locate the mother, then promptly reminded himself that was stupid, and returned inside.

He went back to bed. No need to be up at such an ungodly hour...ah, no wait...

\-----

In the coming two weeks, the both of them watched from the windows as the mother came, and went, and came again...Aziraphale had poured over books on 'Aviary Identification' until Crowley very bluntly pointed out that it was a common Starling. Still...he had to admit. There was something...nice about seeing her tending to her nest, bringing new branches, tending to her young... The eggs were so small, after all... Crowley offhandedly found himself wondering how...anything at all could hatch from something so small. He'd seen "The miracle" of life a million times over. Never impressed him much. Something large spit out a smaller version of itself in the most...disgusting way possible. Nothing to be in awe over. Especially when this old planet was so disgustingly overpopulated.

Until the morning when they woke to the soft screeching chirps from the balcony. Aziraphale all but launched himself from their shared bed, waking Crowley in the process. He hurried over to the balcony, ever so gently approaching the nest with the hopes of not disturbing the mother and her newborns. In fact, the mother was out at the moment. But her chicks, however, were alive and well. Two weeks!! Two weeks of this poor little plant on life support, watering it around the edges with ice cubes to avoid hurting the nest and so forth....and finally, here were the fruits of their labor. Aziraphale glanced in, and felt that...rush of love overtake him. It made his eyes water, his nose wrinkle, his chest tighten as though his heart had suddenly expanded in order to fit this wave of new emotion. He couldn't help a sniff, looking in at the babies while Crowley, again, came shuffling out. 

"Oh...Oh dear, look at them...!" Azzie whispered, motioning his partner over as he dabbed at his eyes. The demon glanced in skeptically...

They were ugly. They were SO ugly. Tiny, screaming, squirming things. Boney, and covered in the tiniest of feathers that still left much of their flesh uncovered. Wings too small to fly, black beady eyes...all around unpleasant things to look at.

"Aren't they...wonderful? Little miracles of their own...each one of them...!" The angel breathed, clutching his hands together to avoid instinctively reaching out to pet so wonderful little creatures.

"Yeah, right...right...wonderful..." Crowley muttered, looking away. Something about them left a sour taste in his mouth, and a scowl on his lips. "Until they have to try and fly and get shoved from the nest...hitting the ground six stories below." Aziraphale stopped, blinked a bit, as though he couldn't quite believe that he'd heard that right.

"...Pardon?"

"Sooner or later, it'll happen, Angel. And they'll either fly, or they'll plummet."

Ah...so that was it. It wasn't...necessarily a lack of care. But caring...perhaps a bit too much.

"Oh...Crowley..." The statement breathed itself from the angel's lips as he came to his partner's side. "...They're not you. You know that...and their mother won't push them to fly, until...until she believes legitimately that they are ready..." His hands found one of the demon's...and clasped around it with only the sweetest of intent. In the quiet of the dawn, with the chirping of the starlings, he brought Crowley's hand to his lips, kissing at his knuckles.

"....I know that. I know they're not." He did, of course. Logically, he did. But...somewhere deep in him, somewhere primal, and emotional, it ached. With each flap of those useless little wings, and calls for a mother who wasn't quite around to hear...it awakened something that had scabbed over and never quite...healed. Aziraphale very gently pulled him into an embrace, pulling his head into the shoulder of a well worn coat...it smelled...vaguely of buttercream...and just a little bit of warm alcohol...what one would imagine a warm hug to smell like. Crowley's wiry frame melted into that of the portly angel, allowing himself to be lead inside once again, and the glass door of the balcony shut.

_____

The next three weeks passed in anxiety for Crowley. He watched the nest. He watched the mother come and go. Watched her bring breakfast for the hungry children. Watched them get larger, and stronger, and louder...And finally, the day came. Aziraphale passed a cup of tea into Crowley's hand with a smile, a mug covered in little engraved constellations. He muttered some sort of a thank you, only to perk up as he saw the head of the first baby poke from the nest in the middle of the long since dead plant. Here it was. Moment of truth....time to either fly, or...well, he didn't like the other option, now that he thought about it. 

The first flew, without issue. Aziraphale gave a note of amazement, watching as she took to the skies in a sweeping motion, off to places unknown... The second hesitated....but finally launched itself. Though it wavered a moment, it soon righted itself, and dove towards the streets below. Crowley let out a breath he'd been holding. One more. Just one more. One more and this would be over. He sat on the edge...and didn't move. For a few, long moments, he didn't move. And then the mother gave just the smallest...push.

Crowley watched, as he hurdled towards the ground, flailing, flapping, attempting to right himself, before vanishing out of sight on the other side of the balcony railing. "Shit-!"

Just as he was about to throw himself over the edge with the intention of saving the starling, it resurfaced, strong and triumphant, up towards the London skies. It was in that moment that...Crowley felt relief, and something more. It was...overwhelming...the opposite of spooky, so much fuller, so....-

Well, he could liken it to what he felt, looking at Aziraphale, now that he thought of it...

Love. Sheer Adoration. Unconditional, Absolute, Love.

"There now," Aziraphale cooed from beside him, patting his hand. "Not so bad, was it? All safe, and sound, and accounted for." He paused for a chuckle, and took a long sip of his tea. "Come along, dear; finish your tea, then we'll head to the nursery, pick out a new plant to replace the other one, hm?" Crowley nodded numbly, bringing the mug to his lips.

A few moments later, as they gathered coats, and shoes, and readied to leave...Aziraphale figured...he didn't need to know about this little miracle.

They had bigger problems to worry about.

"So, I'm thinking about a...Petunia...what do you think, dear?"


End file.
